


Brittle

by Siberianskys



Series: Trust Me [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton's Backstory, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Iron Man 1, Self Confidence Issues, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberianskys/pseuds/Siberianskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil wants to take Clint to meet his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint rode silently in Lola’s passenger seat, eyes closed and head resting against the rolled-up window. He would have preferred the top down and the wind ruffling what there was of his closely cropped hair, but the freezing rain pelting the car nixed that plan. He didn’t understand why Phil wouldn’t let him drive them in his pick-up. He just didn’t get the point of traveling in a convertible when the top had to be up and there were other options available. He twitched when he felt Phil’s hand on the back of his neck.

“You okay?” Phil asked.

Clint opened his eyes and turned his face toward Phil. He was relieved that the road conditions didn’t allow his lover to take his eyes off the road so Phil couldn’t see the fear in his own. “Fine,” he said.

“How about we find a room for the night and we can regroup in the morning?” Phil asked. 

“I said I was fine.”

“I can feel the tension in your neck. You are not fine,” Phil said. “It feels like your head is going to snap off if I break hard.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” Clint said. 

“Embarrass me?” 

“Hill showed me, but I’m not sure I’ve got it all down,” Clint said. 

“What are you talking about?” Phil asked. 

“You know the forks and the glasses and --“

“Seriously, that’s what’s been eating at you all week,” Phil laughed. 

“Fuck you,” Clint snapped. “I’m glad you think it’s funny that I give a damn about what your mother thinks about me.”

“Baby, she’s my mom and all she’s ever wanted was for me to be happy,” Phil said, “and she knows you make me very happy. You don’t have to worry about her scrutinizing your use of the cutlery.”

“See, use of the cutlery. Who talks like that? Not a drop-out, ex-carnie, ex-whore, turned killer-for-hire, I can tell you that,” Clint said, bracing himself as Phil suddenly swerved onto the shoulder and cut the engine. 

“I hate when you do that,” Phil said, slamming his hands into the steering wheel. “Why do you do that?” 

“It’s the truth,” Clint said. 

“A twisted version of it maybe,” Phil said.

“She’s going to take one look at me and know I’m not good enough for you,” Clint said, scowling as he watched Phil unbuckle his seatbelt. Clint stiffened as his lover leaned in and took his face between his hands. 

“I love you,” Phil said. “I am not ashamed of you. And you shouldn’t be embarrassed by what you had to do to survive.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Clint said. 

“It’s okay. I knew you weren’t ready. I shouldn’t have pushed,” Phil said. 

“You know that hotel room you mentioned? It’s beginning to sound pretty good,” Clint said. 

***

Phil smiled as he looked-up from his book and over at Clint. His lover was lying on his belly facing the TV with his knees bent and his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked like the college kid that he never got to be. Phil couldn’t help but stare at Clint’s reflection in the closet mirrors; he looked enraptured. He must have felt Phil move, because he turned and looked over his shoulder.

“Have you ever seen this?” Clint asked.

“Sure, it’s _Mary Poppins_ ,” Phil said. 

“Do you want to change it?” Clint asked, offering the remote.

“Why would I want to do that when you’re obviously enjoying yourself?” Phil asked.

“It’s a kid’s movie,” Clint said. 

“So, it’s still a great movie,” Phil said, crawling down the bed to lie next to Clint.

“You don’t think it’s stupid?” Clint asked. 

Phil put his arm around Clint’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Someday you’re going to stop worrying about what everybody thinks and I hope I’m there to see it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint smiled into his pillow when he felt the mattress dip and Phil press a tender kiss to the back of his neck. "Coming back to bed, sir?"

"You need to stop doing that," Phil said.

"What?"

"Calling me sir when we're in an intimate situation," Phil said. 

"I'm sorry; don't be mad," Clint said sitting up into cross-legged position, but avoiding eye contact with his lover.

"I'm not angry at you. I just want to be sure that you've not been feeling--coerced," Phil said.

"I've been coerced. Fuck, I've been more than that. Trust me; I know when I'm being forced to do something I don't wanna do." 

"Hearing you call me sir when you're half naked in the bed we just shared doesn't reassure me," Phil said.

"It makes me feel like I'm yours."

"You want to explain that?" Phil asked. 

"I don't know if I can," Clint said. 

"I think you'd better try."

"It's not some kink or whatever you're thinking.

"Then what is it?" Phil asked.

Clint shrugged. 

"Is it something you need to do?" Phil asked.

"No, but I have to call you something and all the cutesy nicknames are just stupid and it's weird calling you Phil and calling you Coulson in bed is just--wrong," Clint said. 

"But calling me sir isn't?" Phil asked. 

"Point," Clint said. 

"Any chance of you getting used to calling me Phil?" 

"I guess so," Clint said. 

"That sounds petulant," Phil said. 

"I am petulant," Clint said trying to hold back a smirk. 

"You don't know what it means, do you? Phil asked. 

"No. but it turns up in my personnel reviews a lot," Clint said. 

"And you've never asked." Phil said. 

"I hate people knowing how stupid I really am," Clint said. 

"You are not stupid," Phil said. "I know how hard you worked to earn your GED. I know how hard you're working on your B.S. while still working full-time as a field agent, so who cares if there're still some gaps in your vocabulary."

"I care," Clint said.

"Six years ago you could barely read and now you're three semesters away from a college degree. Take that as a win," Phil said. "And if you still don't think you know enough big words then we can start playing Scrabble in our off time."

Clint smiled, leaned in and kissed Phil's mouth hard and hungry. "Yes, sir," he said when he broke the kiss.

"Impudent," Phil said.

"Now that one I know."

Phil sighed. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

"No idea," Clint said winding his arms around Phil's neck and drawing him down into the bed. Breakfast could wait, he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but the next scene changes POV and it seemed like a natural place for a break.

Clint turned off the hot water, pushed open the shower door and stepped onto the bath mat. He grinned at the note scrawled in the steam on the bathroom mirror. Coffee run--BRB--♡--Phil.

Hoping that his lover had returned with their coffees, and with any luck something to eat, Clint dried off only as much as strictly necessary before padding out. He frowned when he saw that the room was empty. Not knowing what Phil had planned for the day, he pulled on his boxers and then struggled into a pair of well-worn jeans, his still damp skin hampering his progress. He hadn't even gotten them buttoned when there was a knock on the door. 

"Forget your keys?" Clint asked through the door as he reached for the knob. Aw, Barton, no, he thought, didn't you learn your lesson the last time? Taking a quick look through the peephole, he scrunched up his nose. "Ma'am, you have the wrong room."

"Young man, are you planning to have this conversation through the door?" the woman asked.

"Uh, yes," Clint said. 

"Were you raised in a barn?" 

"Close, a circus," Clint said wincing at how that must sound. 

"Young man, open this door."

Clint shrugged to himself and did as he was told. She looked like Mrs. Claus, how dangerous could she be, he reasoned. "Ma'am, if you'd like, I could call the front desk. I'm sure they could send someone up to help you."

"Mother, what are you doing here?" Phil asked coming up behind the woman.

Clint looked between Phil and the woman, his heart beginning to thump. He'd been looking into Phil's eyes in this woman's face and he'd missed it. He's been off work less than 24 hours and he was already slipping. Not knowing what else to do, he slammed the door and fled into the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil unlocked the door and held it open for his mother. He was relieved to see that the balcony doors were still closed and Clint's bow case was still lying on the dresser. That meant that Clint had made the logical choice, since there was no real danger, and gone into the bathroom to hide and not as he'd feared, out the window. 

"Are you going to explain yourself?" Eleanor Coulson asked.

"Mom this couldn't be a worse time," Phil said. 

Eleanor frowned. "He's not what I expected."

Phil arched his eyebrow. 

"I'm not an elitist, Phillip." 

"I wouldn't have brought him here if I thought you were," Phil said.

"Do you think he's planning to stay in there forever?" Eleanor asked. 

"You should go home," Phil said. 

"I didn't cancel my appointments and have Andrew drive me here to turn around and go home without meeting your young man."

"He has a name, mother," Phil said. 

"And when I'm properly introduced, I'll use it."

"No wonder he was afraid to go to meet you," Phil said.

"I thought that was just an excuse, because I embarrass you."

"He thinks he's not good enough for me," Phil said.

"Don't you mean he's afraid that I'll think he's not good enough for you?" Eleanor asked. 

"That might be an easier issue to resolve," Phil said.

"Would you really prefer I went home?" Eleanor asked. 

"I don't want to make things worse. He's already on the verge of bolting," Phil said.

"You think he'd leave you?" Eleanor asked. 

"I want to believe he wouldn't. I know he loves me. This is just all too much for him right now," Phil said. "It's a lot to ask of someone who has spent most of his life being treated like he's less than nothing to accept his self-worth." 

"You've been very secretive about him, even more so than usual," Eleanor said. 

"You know what I do is classified," Phil said. 

Eleanor nodded. 

"He works with me, so there's only so much I can say and the rest--I won't betray his trust. If one day Clint wants to tell you then that's up to him. What I will say is Clint is resourceful, funny, smart, kind and after everything he's endured he still manages to have a moral compass. He's accomplished so much in the last several years it makes me wonder what he would have achieved if he'd had the opportunities I had growing up."

"But then he wouldn't be the person you love," Eleanor said.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Phil said. 

"Do you think you could convince him to come out and just say hello?" Eleanor asked.

Phil sighed.

"I promise not to push," Eleanor said. 

Phil knocked on the bathroom door and waited for a response. When there wasn't one he tried another tactic. "Clint, you can come out now," he said stepping back. 

After a minute the door opened a crack. 

"Please," Phil said. 

Clint stepped into the room, his eyes tracking between Phil, Mrs. Coulson and back.

"Clint, this is my mother Eleanor Coulson. Mom, this is Clint Barton," Phil said.

"Mrs. Coulson," Clint said, his arms wrapped around his chest. 

"Hello, Clint." 

Clint tried to smile as he looked around nervously. 

Phil grabbed a t-shirt off the top of Clint's open suitcase and handed it to him. He realized too late that Clint's back would be turned toward his mother when he reached for his shirt. Phil was relieved when his mother held her tongue. He knew that his lover's scars could be shocking. They'd startled him the first time he'd seen them in person even though he'd seen the pictures in Clint's file. It was days like this that made Phil wish that Harold Barton hadn't wrapped his car around a tree, because he would have enjoyed ending the man himself, slowly.

"Clint," Eleanor said, "it's the cook's night off. Everything will be very casual. I don't expect more than a couple of Phillip's brothers and their families to show. If you feel up to it, I'd love for you and Phil to come to dinner."

"I'm sorry about last night," Clint said. 

"There's no need to be sorry," Eleanor said taking Clint's hands. "I should have thought about it before. I've been told by Phillip's sisters-in-law that we can be a lot to take all at once."

"Can we bring anything or we could come early and I could help," Clint said. 

"You cook?" Eleanor asked. 

"Mom," Phil said. 

"You, Phillip, can barely boil water; it would be nice to know that you're being taken care of," Eleanor said. 

"I'm an okay cook," Clint said. 

"He's better than okay," Phil said. 

"That's good to hear. Phillip would live on those little powdered sugar donuts if you let him," Eleanor said kissing Clint on the cheek. "I hope to see you both tonight."

"I'll walk you down to the elevator," Phil said. 

"That won't be necessary. I can find my own way," Eleanor said kissing her son's cheek before Phil closed the door behind her.

Phil held out his arms and pulled Clint into a tight hug, rubbing his back and kissing his neck. "That went better than I expected," he whispered against Clint's ear.

"I slammed the door in her face. She should hate me," Clint said. 

"Baby, if you hadn't already won her over, knowing that you weren't going to let me starve to death did the trick," Phil said kissing Clint's lips gently. "And before you complain about the cutesy nickname, get used to it. You're stuck with it like you are with me."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the third round of Trope Bingo on Dreamwidth.


End file.
